Shared
by PrincessZula
Summary: DARK: The Avatar is caught and forced to serve two of his worst enemies. Can he be resourceful even in the worst of circumstances? ZukoxAang, ZhaoxAang, hints of AangxKatara MM,Yaoi, slightly edited to fit ff guidelines.
1. Chapter 1

an: This is a really, really dark psychological fic, and some very bad things happen to aang. don't say I didn't warn you.

* * *

I watch with baited breath as they drag the struggling, defiant boy before my father.

This boy, this beautiful avatar who has been the bane of my existence for the past five years was now my redemption. By capturing him and bringing him before my father, I have regained the honor I so foolishly lost five years ago.

Had I known it would only take the lure of that peasant water tribe girl in order to capture him, I could have saved myself three years of headache.

Of course, in hindsight, I didn't even need the girl… just the threat of having her in my captivity had been enough.

Foolish little boy… fell for the oldest trick in the book. I wonder how he would feel if he knew that the water bender was not in my possession after all. Not that we didn't try, but the girl had proved to be as slippery as her element. At the end of the day, it mattered little that she had escaped. The little avatar still believed her on our ship, and thus surrendered willingly.

The fire benders escorting him aren't gentle, and they roughly force the boy to his knees at my father's feet. It suits him right, and I am inordinately pleased to see him that way. After all the trouble he has caused, he should grovel before the great Fire Lord.

He struggles and even shackled and hobbled, he tries to get back to his feet. The guards end up having to hold him down at the shoulders.

I snicker to myself, knowing what's in store for the boy. After a few days on the rack, he will not need to be forced into such a submissive position… he will crawl into it.

His orange tunic has been torn, baring the smooth, unblemished skin of his back and hinting at a lithe, toned body. He's a bit taller now than he was when I first saw him three years ago, but is still very slender. You would never expect his frame to house the kind of power that he has.

Sharp grey eyes glare definitely at my father under long dark lashes and a smooth brow. The skin on his face is smooth and unshaven. He looks very much like a young boy, yet there are shadows in those grey eyes that speak of a hundred lives.

He is magnificent.

"This is the boy, then? This is the fearsome Avatar? He does not look so very fearsome to me." My father says with a snort, earning the muffled snickers of his advisers who flank him on either side.

More and more people enter the throne room, all of them curious to get a look at my prize. My head is held high and my honor is restored, but a part of me wishes to shield the boy from their curious stares. He is my conquest, after all.

The avatar muffles something behind his gag and lifts his eyes to glare at my father. It is the most that he can do, given that he is bound and couldn't bend even if he wasn't. Days of starvation along with a drug known only to the fire nation alchemists have ensured his cooperation -- at least in body.

His mind and spirit will be broken soon enough.

My father snorts and indicates to one of the guards to remove his gag.

"Let us hear what the fearsome Avatar has to say." He says, his eyes alight with amusement.

"Let me go… let me go and I'll take you on right now, or are you too scared to fight me?"

I can't help but admire the boy's spirit, even when all hope for him is gone.

His grey eyes are filled with fire, and for just a moment, the arrow tattoo on his forehead begins to glow. A sudden gust of wind whips around the room, forcing several of my father's advisers to hold onto something solid in order to keep from losing their footing.

He is fiercely resistant, even now. But he will pay for his defiance.

I look to my father to see his reaction. The amusement has faded from his face and he stands, stepping down from his throne until he is right in front of the boy. He holds his right hand up threateningly, and when he closes it into a fist, it becomes a flame.

"I should kill you right now, boy, for your insolence and for the trouble you have caused for the great kingdom of fire." My father says, bending to one knee and holding the flame dangerously close to Aang's face.

I am the only one who notices that the boy's breath hitches slightly in a nervous reaction he cannot control, but then again, after chasing him around for the past three years, I know his body language nearly as well as my own.

"But I have wasted enough time and resources tracking you down, and do not wish to have to do so all over again, should you die. Besides, I don't think I'd find your death very… satisfying. I think I will keep you alive, Avatar… alive and reduced to the lowest form of life possible… perhaps a toy for one of my faithful. What do you think, Avatar?"

The boy doesn't answer, doesn't give any indication that the words affect him one way or another, and again I am proud of him. He is truly a worthy adversary, even in defeat.

Then my father's words penetrate my mind and I realize what he has in store for the boy. I cannot help the sudden hitch in my breath, nor the rapid beating of my heart at the thought. Oh, to have him in such a way. I stand a little straighter, watching the boy almost predatorily. To have such a powerful creature subservient to me… it would be worth everything… the years of banishment, the scar that I received at my father's own hand.

_Everything._

My father nudges him with his foot when he doesn't answer, and is met with a furious glare from the little avatar.

"Well? Answer me, boy."

Aang turns his head away, a silent refusal to cooperate and for a moment, my heart stops, fearing that my father's going to kill him anyway. He's done much worse for far minor infractions… I know this firsthand.

Another snort from my father, and he grabs the Avatar's chin between his forefinger and thumb. The Avatar let's out an involuntary hiss, indicating to all that my father has not bothered to pull the flame back entirely.

"I have one more question for you boy, and you will answer me… or that pretty little water bender slut that was brought in with you will warm my bed tonight."

I watch the boy intensely, wondering how he's going to react to my father's threat. And for a moment, his eyes widen briefly in fear before narrowing once again in defiance.

"You don't have her. I know you don't have her… you're lying, just like Zuko."

Hearing my name fall from the boy's lips has an odd effect on me, now that I know what's in store for him. Then the meaning of his words hit me and I cannot help the little smirk that graces my face. So, he figured out it was a ruse after all. How foolish he must feel, knowing that he let himself get caught because of a lie.

My father finds his answer amusing as well, and he smirks.

"It doesn't matter that I don't, Avatar… both of your little treacherous companions will be brought before me eventually, and when they are, I will take great pleasure in seeing that the boy's death is slow and painful. After my advisers tire of her, the girl will die as well. There is nothing you can do to save them, Avatar. It's only a matter of time."

Again, a gust of wind blows around the room, but its power is fleeting, much like the boy who calls it. I am amazed that he has any control left over the elements at all.

And so is my father. He immediately calls for one of the alchemists, who rushes to his side with a tall green bottle.

"Twice, Avatar, the winds have answered you. But no more."

My father forces the boy's mouth open himself, taking great pleasure in poring the poison down his throat. Aang gags and splutters, tries to spit it out, but the alchemist who handed my father the drug rubs the boy's exposed neck, forcing him to swallow.

Almost immediately, the Avatar's eyes glaze over.

Pleased with the results, my father lowers his voice to almost a whisper.

"And now I ask you, boy. Are you a virgin?"

I watch the boy intently, waiting for him to answer, knowing that it's not going to change his fate either way. My father, the perverse bastard that he is, just wants to know. Of course I have to repress a snort, thinking that the answer should be obvious The boy is a monk, after all.

Even with the drug fogging his senses and binding his bending abilities, the boy refuses to answer.

My father nods as if the Avatar's silence was expected and pinches the boy's chin between his fingers once more. Vacant grey eyes meet my father's fierce glare.

"I will ask you again in three days, Avatar, and then you will dare not defy me."

The guards take him away and down to the dungeons, where he is placed on the rack and stretched. Several fire benders – experts in the arts of torture – tend to the boy, using flame, knives, whips and other devices, giving him nothing to eat or drink but the drug that binds his bending and for three days straight, the castle is filled with the Avatar's screaming.

When they finally bring him back before my father, the throne room is even more filled than before, mostly because by now rumor has spread of the boy's punishment. I am surprised to see Zhao's smiling countenance on the other side of the room and I have to fight to keep my sudden rage under control.

It takes everything that I have to ignore that dishonorable bastard in favor of the boy that is being brought into the room. However, one look at the Avatar and I forget everything but him.

He crawls towards my father on his hands and knees, no longer shackled. The guards don't even have to guide him as he approaches the throne and lowers himself to kiss my father's feet. The proud, powerful Avatar is cowed, and yet as I catch a glimpse of his eyes I can see that despite everything, he isn't broken.

It only makes me want him even more.

My father nods expectantly. Of course he knows how effective his methods are, and he didn't expect anything but the results that he received.

And so without preamble he stands, and asks the same question that he had asked three days ago.

"Tell me, boy. Are you a virgin?"

I smirk to myself, already knowing the answer… a part of me stirs to life at the thought of being the first to take this beautiful, powerful boy; to make him mine.

"No."

The answer is spoken quietly, the Avatar's voice hoarse from screaming. I feel shock go through me along with a fierce, possessive rage. How dare anyone touch what is mine? He has always been mine, ever since I started my quest to find him.

Absently, my hands curl into fists, and I can't suppress a scowl. Out of the side of my good eye, I can see that bastard Zhao watching me with amusement. Immediately, I neutralize my expression, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much the Avatar's answer has burned me.

My father, however, finds his answer extremely amusing, and laughs heartily.

"So… not even the great Avatar can abide by his own moral code… how amusing, to know that you've failed on so many levels. I suppose it was the water tribe girl… she must have been quite the whore, in order to seduce a monk."

The avatar doesn't so much as flinch at my father's comment, and I relax a little, knowing that if that particular taunt didn't succeed in riling the boy, then he was mine.

My father seems to realize that he had no fight left as well, and nods approvingly.

"Very well… I tire of this. Now what to do with you… " My father says, his hand on his chin as if seriously considering the question.

I hold my breath, knowing what's coming next, and prepare to step forward. My heart is beating faster than it ever has before.

"Is there anyone here who would like this boy for their amusement?" He finally asks, and before he even gets the last word out I'm stepping forward with my answer.

"I would, my Lord."

There is another voice that echoes through the air besides mine. Another request for the boy at the exact same moment, and with a growing sense of dread, I turn and glare at Zhao, who winks at me as he also steps forward.

My eyes whip back to my father. I dare not show any emotion and so try to keep my expression as blank as possible. If my father only knew how very much I wanted the boy… how much I've always wanted him, I'd lose him for sure.

I can't help but glance over to the little Avatar, who has turned his head and is now looking at me, his wide grey eyes no longer expressionless, but filled with shock.

Further evidence that he hasn't been completely broken, and I am pleased, but I dare not show it.

My father laughs again, finding our predicament amusing and clears his throat.

"Well, well, what a dilemma. So popular, boy. What to do with you… should I give you to my son, who has regained his rightful place by my side by delivering you to me, or should I give you to Admiral Zhao, who was single-handedly responsibly for the fall of Omashu? Decisions, decisions…"

Zhao was _not_ single-handedly responsible for the fall of Omashu – I distinctly remember taking the old earth bender out myself while seeking the Avatar; knowing that the castle of Omashu was one of his hiding places. The thought that Zhao took full credit for the accomplishment made me hate him all the more. But since I had not yet regained my honor at the time, there had been no way to inform my father of my personal victory.

That it should play a part in this particular decision was insufferable.

"I know. Why don't I award you both? I think that's fair… you can share the boy; take turns. I think that would amuse me greatly."

My heart is in my throat… I want to kill Zhao… but for now, I merely smile and nod, not willing to defy my father now that he has delivered his decision.

"Whatever you think is appropriate, father."

"Yes… whatever I think. Very well… Zhao, you shall take the boy first."

I lift my head in shock. My first instinct is to debate this hotly, but I quickly close my mouth, remembering with a shiver what happened the last time I spoke out against my father.

When my father nods at me, I understand that I was being tested. Oh, to be tested over such a thing! But I hold my peace, and try not to react as Zhao makes the boy crawl behind him, out of the room.

I try to put it out of my mind and think only about tomorrow. But later, as my father's best firewhiskey burns its way down my throat, I find that even the fire nation's most potent drink can't erase the bitter taste left in my mouth.

* * *

an: please don't crucify me for this... :)


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This chapter contains non-con, violence, and hints at substance abuse. You've been warned…

* * *

Prince Zuko. 

He has been a thorn in my side for almost four years, since my liege first assigned me with the task of retrieving the Avatar.

I can honestly say that I never expected King Ozai to accept the banished prince back as his heir, Avatar or no. The fact that he did completely interfered with the plans that I had for the future.

You see, I had intended to take the young princess as my wife. I have no doubt that my liege would have approved of the match and was intending upon asking for her as a reward for producing the Avatar. Then, after my liege suffered an unfortunate accident soon after our nuptials, Princess Zula would inherit the throne. Of course, as a woman she would have soon been found incompetent to lead our great nation, and that is where I would have stepped in -- it would have been the least I could do under Agni and our great nation.

I had it all planned out.

And so, I was not at all pleased to find out that the banished Prince had returned with the Avatar.

In fact, the more I thought about it, the more it grated at me and the more I hated that sorry excuse for a royal. I should have been the one to bring the boy before my liege. I was the one who had the men and the resources to do it. That that insolent spoiled brat should be successful where I was not –

It was insufferable.

I can't think about it anymore. I'm grinding my teeth now, and the young captain standing next to me has subtly inched further away. I realize that my emotions must be showing on my face, and that is never good.

Instead, I distract myself by directing my attention to the young Avatar as they bring him before my liege for the second time in three days. I have to repress a snort as I look at the boy. He cannot be any more than sixteen. One hundred and sixteen, to be sure, but he looks little changed from the first time I saw him. Taller, perhaps… but his face is that of a child's. How could such a scrawny little brat cause the great fire nation so much trouble?

He is crawling on his hands and knees, completely cowed and I smile. If there is one good thing I have to say for my liege, it is that he deals with prisoners effectively. Serves the brat right, for how much trouble he has caused.

And then I am reminded of what my Lord has in store for the insolent youth. My eyes travel over his slight form, this boy who has escaped me several times… and though it is not the reason I came here, I begin to wonder what it would be like to have him completely subservient to my will. How delicious it would be to flush out that last little bit of defiance that he's so effectively hiding.

Oh yes, I know that his spirit is not broken. He is cowed, yes – but not a shell, like so many who have been brought before my liege after such ruthless treatment. I have never underestimated that child like my liege. He has always been brave -- noble even, possessed of a strength of character that would put any one of my men to shame. Even now, it would be foolish to dismiss him. That boy, that young Avatar is infallible.

Ozai has failed to break him… but perhaps I can succeed where my liege has not.

He is a beautiful youth; lithe, sinuous and innocent. I come to the realization that I would find the process most… enjoyable.

Out of the corner of my eye I can see the young prince watching the boy with as much – if not more – intensity as myself. Oh ho! So, the spoiled prince wants the boy for himself. Why am I not surprised? The look he is giving the boy reeks of possession, giving me a second reason to want to take the boy for myself.

He sees me watching him and schools his expression, but it is too late. I've seen the barely hidden lust in his eyes… and what's more, he knows it.

My liege taunts the boy, brings out a startling truth and I snicker. Not so pious now, little monk? And while I can see the arrogant prince seething under his breath, I myself am not so surprised. If there is one thing that I am, it is observant. In the many altercations I have had with the young Avatar, I have seen how he has protected that worthless water wench above everything, even when doing so put his own life at risk.

I suppose he was fumbling when he took her… it was probably very mutual and very sweet. There will be nothing mutual or sweet about what he will get from me, I assure you.

And then my liege asks the question I have been waiting for. I know that I'm not going to be the only one to step forward… in fact, I am counting on it. And indeed, it gives me great pleasure to see the barely repressed rage on the prince's face.

My liege decides to award the avatar to both of us. At this, I am filled with an unexpected surge of … something, maybe anger, maybe it's possessiveness, maybe a little bit of both and I'm forced to shrug it off. What do I care if the boy is shared between us? He's just a plaything – a toy.

But then again, I was never one to share.

Of course, when my liege determines that I will be the first to take the boy, the feeling is replaced by one of triumph. I can't help the smirk that I send in the direction of the prince. I know it's juvenile, but that the prince will have to live with the knowledge that I will be the first to take his precious little Avatar is almost more thrilling than the fact itself.

Almost.

I watch the prince with barely repressed glee. I know he wants more than anything to challenge his father's decision and I'm secretly hoping he will. Unfortunately, the prince seems to have learned from his mistakes and I am denied that pleasure.

Of course, the pleasure of having the boy follow me out of the throne room on his hands and knees like a dog more than makes up for it --- especially knowing that the prince is watching my little display with a mixture of rage and envy.

_Glorious._

And so I am in quite a good mood as I lead the boy to my chambers. I am proud to say that I am one of a handful of advisors that is worthy enough to have their own residence inside the castle. For a moment, I regret that my rooms aren't closer to the rooms of that arrogant prince; it would give me great joy for him to overhear what I have planned for the boy, after all.

But as I lead the humbled boy Avatar into my rooms, all thoughts of the prince go out of my mind.

I scan him now, from head to toe. His orange tunic is battered and torn in many places, along with his pants, but it matter little. He will have no need of clothing while he is with me. Without preamble, I tear what little remains from his body. He shivers, but doesn't resist and when I have him finally bare to my view, I can't help but suck in a breath at the sight.

No wonder why the prince wanted the boy so much. He really is beautiful. Oh, sure, he's covered in bruises, burns, and welts from the three days of torture he endured, but to me that just adds to his appeal. What really draws my attention though is his tattoo – and yes, it is one continuous tattoo that begins at the base of his spin and trails all the way up his back, over the smooth, bald skin that covers his head and terminates in the arrow on his forehead. The arrows that wrap around both his arms and his legs branch off from the initial markings seamlessly. All together, it is a work of art.

I want to see the rest of him, but the boy is curled into a ball, his eyes trained on the ground.

"Get to your feet, boy."

My words are commanding, and it gives me a little thrill to see the almost indiscernible shiver go through the boy upon hearing them.

He rises, and I have to stifle a gasp again. His body is lean and virtually hairless. He is smooth, sinuous and the epitome of innocence and youth. Agni is smiling down on me tonight.

The youth meets my eyes briefly and then glances around the room, as if not really sure what to look at. I see him glance over at my bed briefly and then at the set of shackles that hang from the wall.

Disappointingly enough the boy's eyes are blank again and show no reaction. Either that or he's already learning to hide his emotions. Very smart of him, for they could be used as tools against him in the wrong hands; hands like mine.

I decide that he's had enough time to accommodate himself with his new position and surroundings and I clear my throat in an attempt to bring his attention back to me. And when he turns, his eyes don't focus directly on mine but rather a spot just below my chin. It irritates me and I backhand him, feeling it necessary to lay down this one particular rule right now.

"Your eyes will be on me, boy, when I address you. You understand?"

"Yes… master."

His voice is meek when he speaks, and even though it seems that he has become adept at hiding his emotions in his eyes over the past few days, he still can't help the slight hitch in his voice that belies his fear. That pleases me greatly, since fear is an emotion that I find intoxicating. But I'm not all that pleased about the moniker he used to address me, for reasons that I promptly explain to him.

"Yes Zhao. I will allow you to call me Zhao for brevity's sake, but I will not have you hiding behind the anonymity of the word 'master', nor will I have you confusing me with your other so-called 'master'. Do you understand me boy?"

"Yes… Zhao."

I regard him for a moment, his eyes now fully trained on mine but still empty; unreadable.

It does not matter. I do not need to see his eyes to know what he's feeling. I need only to hear his screams.

Roughly, I reach out and grasp his chin between my forefinger and thumb, allowing the fire to heat my hand to the point where I know it is painful for the boy, but not to the point where my touch would be disfiguring. The boy has such a childish, pretty face that it would be a shame to ruin it. But the heat does its intended job, and he gasps, opening his mouth to me and I do not hesitate to plunder it with my own.

His taste is a combination of the elements: breezy, earthy, and coolly refreshing. When I bite down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, the spicy warmth of fire is added to the intoxicating mix.

When I pull away, I am pleased to see that the blank look in his eyes is finally gone. Now he looks like nothing so much as a trapped animal, wanting to flee. For a moment, the whites of his eyes seem to reflect the merest hint of blue and I curse myself under my breath for being such a fool.

I'd been so intent on taking the boy that I had completely forgotten to give him the drug that keeps his powers at bay. And even though he's weak from three days of torture with no food, I refuse to make the mistake of thinking for one second that this boy is helpless. With a scowl, I drag him over to the wall. Once I have him bound at both his hands and feet with the shackles hanging there, I take a moment to admire the supple curves of his backside before grabbing the green bottle that sits on top of the chest by the side of my bed.

He doesn't even resist when I turn his head to the side and force him to drink the foul smelling concoction.

However, after I divest myself of my uniform and bury myself deep into the boy while he is still shackled against the wall, I find that the drug has a side effect that I do not find at all pleasing. His eyes are clouded, his mind gone, and the screams that I had expected from him are reduced to mere whimpers.

I'm furious… furious with myself for allowing him a small escape, and in a moment of juvenile pettiness, I burn him. It is a small red welt on his shoulder, but it makes him cry out and the sound of it pleases me enough to bring me over the edge.

I don't bother to remove him from his bindings after I pull out of him. Instead, I leave him where he is and retire to my bed, thinking that I might find it amusing to have him in that particular position when the Prince comes to collect him in the morning.

* * *

a/n: Zhao… what a bastard. Poor little avatar… gives him hug. Zuko's up next chapter, and then Aang's POV will probably come after Zuko. 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This chapter contains a yaoi lemon, foul language and hints at substance abuse. Again, you've been warned...

* * *

The sun has been up for at least an hour now. Yet I am pacing back and forth in my quarters, waiting for that bastard Zhao to deliver what is mine. 

Did he not even bother to listen to the words of my father's decision? We were supposed to _share_ the Avatar. Today, the Avatar was supposed to be _mine_.

Finally, I can't take it any more. I grab a simple robe, since I do not wish to be bothered with the intricacies of my uniform, and storm out the door. The servants who tend to the castle do not meet my eyes as I pass them on my way to Zhao's quarters.

Zhao's _quarters_.

One of the first things that I plan on doing when I become the fire lord is changing all of my advisors. The second thing that I plan on doing is providing all of them -- even Uncle -- with their own residences outside the walls of the imperial palace. I do not want nor need a contingent of fire benders advising me on every decision that I make, every moment of every given day.

And I _especially_ do not want dishonorable bastards like Zhao offering me advice.

Fucking _bastard_.

By the time I reach Zhao's door, my hands are shaking with barely repressed fury. That I -- the crown prince of the fire nation -- should have to come to him for what should by all rights belong exclusively to me has me gritting my teeth in indignation. I'm sure the bastard knows it too -- a fact that is instantly confirmed. After knocking lightly and only once, Zhao throws the door open gleefully, his expression one of malicious joy.

Immediately suspicious, I narrow my eyes and brush past him. All sorts of thoughts run through my mind as to what he might have done that would warrant that look -- one of utter satisfaction.

I make a silent promise to myself that if he has hurt the Avatar, I _will_ kill him.

_Slowly._

"Where is he?" I ask, not even bothering to hide my anger.

Zhao's smile widens to cover the entire expanse of his face.

"I do believe he's hanging around in the bedroom. If you like, you can go and retrieve him."

The idea of entering Zhao's bedroom causes my stomach to do a flip of revulsion. It is obvious that the Admiral is trying to goad me, perhaps to lure me into some sort of trap and I do not intend to give him the satisfaction.

"No. I think I'll wait here." I say, noticing how his face falls just slightly at my response before settling back into a smirk.

"No? Pity... well, if you insist, I'll get the boy."

"I do insist, Admiral. And in the future, I expect you to deliver the boy to me at sunrise. In return, I will do the same."

My words are laced with steel, but it has no affect on the older man. He merely turns away with a chuckle and disappears into his bedroom. I hear the clinking of what could only be metal restraints followed by a light shuffling and then he is before me again. The Avatar is at his side, dressed in only a tattered robe. The boy is listless and staring vacantly at his feet.

I feel the fire within me surge with anger, and I ruthlessly clamp it down.

I waste no time in grabbing the boy's hand and I roughly pull him to my side, eager to leave Zhao's quarters and his all too knowing looks.

"Let's go." I order the boy as I shoot one last glare in Zhao's direction before storming out of his quarters, the avatar trailing dutifully behind me.

Zhao's amused chuckles seem to follow us all the way back to my rooms. Unconsciously, I grip the Avatar's hand tighter while my body temperature automatically rises in response to my mood, causing the boy to whimper from the sudden burn.

Immediately, I force myself to calm down. It was not my intent to hurt him -- he is not the one that my ire is focused on -- and I take a few deep, calming breaths, bringing my body temperature down to a normal level. Still, I do not release the avatar's hand, nor offer any apologies for my actions. He is meant to serve me, after all.

The thought has me almost giddy with excitement and for just a moment, I am able to forget that he just spent the night at the mercy of my nemesis.

Of course that moment of forgetfulness disappears soon after we enter my quarters and I get a good look at the boy for the first time since my father determined his fate.

His skin is coated with a light sheen of sweat and he looks almost sickly -- most likely due to the conditions he's been kept in. Further examination shows a reddish bruise on his cheekbone, and I'm instantly enraged again -- but not at him. At Zhao, for obviously hurting the boy. And then his stomach grumbles; evidence of the boy's hunger.

Fucking Zhao didn't even feed him, after three days of being tortured with no food.

"Would you like something to eat, Avatar?" I ask, noticing that he winces slightly at the way I refer to him.

His grey eyes widen briefly and a slight smile plays across his lips before he quickly hides it. The boy is smart and is obviously learning that his emotional responses can be used against him. Still, I'm not pleased. I want his responses. What's more, I want him to want me with the same... intensity that I have wanted him, for all those years.

I don't want him to hide anything from me.

Eventually he nods slightly, but it is not enough and I tell him that.

"You need to ask for it, Avatar."

He looks at me startled for a moment before averting his eyes once again, obviously struggling with himself as to whether or not he should give in and do as I ask. But when his stomach growls once more he lowers his head slightly and sighs.

"Please, Zuko. Can I have something to eat?"

A small shiver goes down my back at the way he asks and I nod, allowing a small smile to play across my face. I bring him into the small room that I use for informal dining. There is already a light breakfast at the small table in the center of the room for the both of us and I make a mental note to acknowledge the girl servant who caters to me for her foresight.

I kneel on one side of the small table and help myself to some of the rice and the fish. I avoid the tea and choose to drink only water, since I have never been very fond of tea. When the Avatar merely stands in the doorway and doesn't immediately join me, I frown. I know that he's starving -- why isn't he joining me?

I look at him quizzically. He continues to look longingly at the table, but does not move from where he's standing. After a moment, my eyes widen with the realization that I haven't asked him yet to join me and that he wouldn't dare to do so without my expressed invitation. It is a stark reminder of his status and I'm not entirely sure that I'm pleased by it. Seeing him so... meek is beginning to bother me on some level and my voice is unintentionally harsh when I speak.

"Are you going to stand there all day, staring at the floor? Come and eat before it gets cold."

The Avatar sluggishly approaches the table and kneels opposite me.

I watch him eat with a certain amount of fascination, noticing that he avoids the fish which would provide him with much needed energy, instead choosing only the fruits and rice. Somewhat concerned, I frown and consider ordering him to eat the fish, so that he might regain some of the strength he's lost. But I restrain myself, not wanting to further alienate him at this point as I take the opportunity to study him.

It is hard for me to reconcile the boy kneeling across from me with my former adversary -- the boy that bested me, more often than not. Again, I feel a slight twinge of regret, but it is only slight. Had I not brought him to my father, I would not have regained my honor and my position. I really didn't have any other choice.

After he has finished nearly all of the rice and at least three of the fruit on the table, he drinks several cups of the tea before sitting back. Once again, a small smile plays on his lips before it is quickly discarded.

I am pleased with his response and I rise, holding my hand out to help him up as well. He grips it cautiously and for just a brief moment, his eyes meet mine.

"Would you like a bath, Avatar?" I ask, not unkindly.

Confusion, curiosity and fear swirl in the grey depths of his eyes before he hesitantly answers me.

"Y-yes, I would, Z-zuko."

The confusion that I am causing is intentional. After all, I know this boy, perhaps better than any other... and I know the way to break him. What affects the Avatar more than anything is affection... kindness... comfort.

All of which I am prepared to give him, if it means that he would begin trust me. Perhaps eventually, he could even learn to love me. Only then could he be truly mine.

I smile at him, further adding to his confusion, and lead him into another room. Because of my status, I'm one of the few palace residents to have their own private baths. My dutiful servant has already filled it with water and there are fresh towels embroidered with the fire nation emblem on the small wooden bench by the side of the tub. Again, I remind myself to acknowledge her. After so many years onboard a ship and faring for myself, I can really appreciate her services.

With one hand, I test the water and find it lukewarm. Knowing that he can't do this for himself anymore, I focus the fire down into my arm and use it to heat the water until it is hot enough. And then I turn to the Avatar with a small smile.

He's watching me curiously now, no doubt wondering if I intend to stay in the room and watch him bathe. I admit that the idea definitely has merit, but again, I want him to trust me -- or at least relax around me.

"Go ahead, Aang. There are towels and a robe on the bench. I'll be in the other room."

I use his first name purposely, and it has the effect that I intended. His eyes widen and for a moment, he looks as if he's going to cry. This time, he does not try to hide his smile.

The simple expression sends a wave of heat right down my spine and as I leave the room, I contemplate a question he asked me three years earlier.

_'Do you think we could have been friends?'_

I hadn't intended on him finding out who I was, that day. I had only wanted to prevent Zhao from delivering the boy to the fire lord, thus forever depriving me of my chance to regain my honor. But my mask had slipped, revealing my identity to the boy.

He could have left me to the mercy of Zhao. And then my father would have ordered my execution if he had discovered my involvement in the Avatar's escape. But he didn't --

He had too much honor, even then.

I... reluctantly admired him. I still do. However, as a sworn enemy to the fire nation, his question was one I couldn't answer. Not then, and not now.

Yet, there were many nights that I lay alone in my bed, thinking of that very question... and the soft, hopeful voice in which it was asked. I think that was when he became a person to me, instead of just an object -- a conquest.

After finally catching him, delivering him to my father had been one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.

I do not regret my decision, however. Not when I've had my birthright restored and the object of my obsession given to me as a reward. My only regret is that my father saw fit to reward Zhao as well.

The thought of that bastard's hands touching what's _mine_...

The bile rises in my throat, forcing me to swallow. The fire is very near to the surface. A light hand touches my shoulder and I spin around; my expression vicious enough to cause the boy to step backwards in fear. Immediately I approach him and in a moment of self indulgence, I embrace him fiercely, pulling him tightly against my chest and burying my nose against the side of his neck. There is no affection in my actions, only a fierce need to touch him in some way, to ensure myself that he is _mine_.

The Avatar stiffens in my arms, but I do not let him go. Instead, I inhale the scent of him, reveling in the fact that he smells of the same soap that I use to wash myself, and pull him closer. Absently, I notice that the robe that I provide is slightly large on him, since it slips off of his right shoulder somewhat, exposing the pale, creamy skin to my hungry eyes.

I _want_ him...

"Z-zuko? I... I can't... breathe..."

Absently, I release him, a little shocked at myself for my actions. I have always had little control over myself and my emotions when it has come to this boy. More than once, Uncle Iroh has told me that my obsession with him was unhealthy and I ignored him, knowing that he was right.

They made him my obsession. For five years, my entire world revolved around this boy.

And now... now I have him. I _will_ have him.

The avatar is looking at me with confusion, but I don't feel like explaining anything to him. He'll know what I want from him soon enough, if he hasn't figured it out already. Gently, I grab his hand and lead him into my bedroom. When we reach the foot of my bed, I turn to him with the intent to pull him back into my arms, but the fearful, stricken look he gives me makes me pause momentarily.

He's standing in front of me, nervously chewing his bottom lip and shivering. I don't say anything, but tilt my head in query, giving him a silent indication that I'm waiting for him to speak. And when he does, his voice is almost a whisper.

"Zuko... you... you aren't going to hurt me... are you?"

My heart plummets at this, and I feel a fierce surge of anger once again towards Zhao. I can't answer the Avatar, because he needs to know that I'm in control and that I can hurt him if I so choose, but at the same time I don't want him to fear me like he obviously does Zhao.

Zhao. I _will_ kill him, one of these days. Of that, I am certain.

The avatar continues to look at me with large grey eyes full of fear and apprehension.

My expression softens and I pull him to me almost tenderly. He winces at my initial touch, and inside I am steaming as I wonder to myself what that bastard Zhao did to him in order to cause this response. It takes everything I have to forcefully clamp down on my emotions and put Zhao out of my mind, knowing that if I don't I might inadvertently hurt the boy and that is the last thing I want to do. Finally, when I'm calmed enough to proceed, I begin by placing feather light kisses against the boy's neck.

He shudders in my arms and lets out a deep breath. I pull away briefly to examine him. His eyes are cloudy, full of confusion and unwanted arousal and his cheeks are flushed. With the back of my right hand, I trace the features of his face almost reverently, noticing with a frown how he winces when I first reach for him.

_Fucking Zhao._ I've no doubt that Aang's fearful responses are a direct result of whatever that idiot put him through last night.

Again, I'm forced to put the bastard out of my mind as I resume my exploration of the Avatar -- of Aang.

His face still has the soft planes of a youth, but his features are slightly more defined then they were when I first saw him. His cheekbones are slightly more pronounced and his jaw is just a little sharper. But his skin is still smooth and there is no hair on his lip or his chin.

I trace the arrow on his forehead reverently as my hand travels up his scalp and circles around to the back of his neck. With a soft tug, I pull him towards me in order to taste his lips for the first time. The electric touch of our lips ignites the fire inside of me and I'm forced to bite back a groan. His lips are soft, like twin pillows, and they fit against my own perfectly.

He is tense and apprehensive -- I can feel him stiffening again in my arms -- so I softly run my tongue along his bottom lip, gently coaxing his mouth open and pull him flush against me. He's grown taller over the past three years and nearly rivals me in height, so the action places my groin right up against his and I can't help but grind against him.

He gasps, the sound involuntary I'm sure, but it gives me the opportunity that I'm looking for and I delve my tongue into his mouth. I fully explore the dark, warm cavern with my tongue, delighting in his taste, and coax his own tongue to battle against mine. In response, the Avatar whimpers and the sound seems to travel directly to my groin.

I'm in a fever by now to have him, and I pull him with me backwards towards the bed and abruptly break the kiss in order to lift him into my arms -- he is so very light, almost frail, in comparison to me. He looks at me as if in a daze and shivers lightly. As I lay him down on top of my bed, I notice that his eyes are suspiciously wet. However, the sight of him splayed like that on my bed wearing one of my robes has me more aroused than I've ever been, and I descend upon him hungrily, eagerly kissing away the tears that are threatening to fall.

"Shhh... Aang. It's okay..." I whisper into his ear, gently catching his earlobe between my lips and nibbling on it. He responds with a shiver and I notice that he's fighting to keep his arms by his side. The thought that he wants to touch me makes me smile against the side of his face. Purposefully, I blow a hot breath into his ear before trailing my lips down his neck and to his collar bone, causing him to hiss. In response, the fire inside of me burns hotter, urging me on.

I'm so hard now, it's almost painful. I've wanted this boy for so long. My hands are shaking as I make quick work of his robe along with my own, and I suck in a breath as I look at him, naked and splayed out beneath me. He is a beautiful youth, his skin is supple and smooth, and... gods, how I want him!

The marks on his body from the past few days cause me to wince slightly. I knew that they were torturing him. I even understood that it was necessary because of his defiance. That doesn't mean that I wanted to see him hurt.

Gently, my lips reverently kiss every bruise, every cut that is visible to me, even as my hands map out his lithe and delicate body. He's trembling from my touch and his heart is beating wildly in his chest. The arrows that cover his body seem almost brighter as he arches his back to meet my questing hands.

It is intoxicating to me that I have this effect on him. His reactions to my touch are almost wanton, and I'm burning with the desire to take him, to make him utter my name in pleasure.

My questing lips wrap around a dark pink nipple, my teeth biting down on the small nub even as my hands gently skim down the soft skin of his stomach to gently grasp the boy's arousal, jutting out proudly underneath a light dusting of brown curls between his sinuous thighs. The moan that escapes his lips is deep and earthy and his whole body trembles as I gently squeeze him.

I wrap my lips around the boy's other nipple as I apply a small amount of heat to my palm and stroke the boy slowly. He arches up into my touch, seeking the heat of my hand, his breathes coming out in choppy gasps. Never did I think that he'd react to me so... eagerly.

I feel the urge to taste him, to bring him pleasure, and my lips worry a path down the smooth skin of his abdomen to just above his pelvis, even as I continue to stroke him in that soft, maddening manner. I place a few soft kisses on the head of his erection before engulfing him completely, surrounding him entirely with the wet heat of my mouth. The action draws a low and guttural moan from the boy as he reaches down and grasps the back of my head, unable to refrain from touching me any more. He absently fingers my hair that I have pulled up into a top knot, the touch causing me to shiver as I repeatedly pull my lips up and down along the length of his arousal.

"Oh gods..." He mutters, the small verbal outburst affecting me more than anything so far. It is empowering, knowing that I have the Avatar trembling beneath me. But I want more than that. I want him to beg... I want to hear my name fall from his lips, and I'm willing to focus entirely on him, ignoring my own needs until I do. I find the sac beneath his erection and roll it around softly in my hands. His moans are now constant, feverish, and he's mumbling. I take him deeper inside my mouth each time, until my lips are tingling from the effort. Suddenly, the boy tenses beneath me, and I know he's close... very, very close, his heart is fluttering wildly and the hand tangled in my hair tightens. I pull back at once, leaving him bereft and on the edge. I don't want him to come, not just yet -- I want to be inside him when that happens.

He looks at me dazedly, his grey eyes sparkling with desire and need. He's so utterly wanton and my own erection is painful. I capture his lips in a forceful kiss, forcing his legs apart with one hand while the other blindly reaches for the jar of oil that I placed on the small table next to my bed. My hand finds the green bottle that I intend to give him afterwards before finally wrapping around the small jar and I deftly work it open without even breaking the kiss.

"Zuko..."

My name falling from his lips causes my erection to throb painfully. I dip my fingers into the oil and then seek his entrance with my fingers, desperately needing to be inside him. For me, taking him is the culmination of everything -- of five years of banishment, of five years of searching... I finally caught him, I've regained my honor -- I _deserve_ to be inside him.

He is _mine_.

I push two fingers inside of him, and he winces. Belatedly, I realize he must be sore... _fucking bastard Zhao_. But I'm too aroused, too far gone to stop at this point -- all I can do is try to be careful.

My free hand gently rubs the soft skin of his shoulder to try to coax him to relax further. I'm not prepared for the sharp cry of pain that falls from his lips as a result and pull away to examine him... there's no way that just touching him should hurt like that.

And then I see the burn.

_I will have his fucking head_... I will burn that bastard to a crisp! How _dare_ he mark him like that?

_HE IS MINE._

When I descend on him again, my kiss is fierce, possessive, wanting, needing... _hungry_.

_"Mine."_ I mumble fiercely against his lips. I know that I'm probably scaring him at this point, but I don't care... I position myself between his legs and thrust into him, catching his scream in my mouth. I'm surrounded by heat, and he's so tight around me, gripping me tighter than any fist... I can't even breathe. Absently, I begin to stroke him as I push into him slowly, trying to bury myself as deep inside of his body as possible. This is what I wanted... what I've always wanted from him. What I've _craved_, and gods...

My mind is gone, my body is covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and through the haze of my passion I can feel his hands digging into my back, pulling me against him, his hot breath against my chest.

For a short eternity, we pull against each other in a maddening rhythm, my lips locked on his as he arches his pelvis to meet my thrusts eagerly. It is everything, it is heaven, it is bliss... I push into him deeper, faster, harder, the fire licking at every nerve inside of me, consuming, overwhelming... _mine_.

_"Z-Zuko!"_

My name falls from his lips suddenly in a breathy voice, followed by a loud hiss, and then he is coming, pulsing under my hand, coating it with his white hot essence. I can't help myself, I follow him into the abyss, my whole world explodes around me as I bury myself so deep inside of him that any further and we would exist to be two separate people, my own arousal throbbing hot and pulsing erratically, the pleasure zinging through every nerve of my body.

_Mine_.

_"Aang..."_

For a moment, we lay there against each other, desperately trying to catch our breaths. Gently I pull out of him and embrace him. I place soft, open mouthed kisses all along the side of his face, pausing only when I taste the bitter salt of tears.

I pull back from him to look at his face, expecting to see satisfaction, or maybe even affection. What I'm not expecting to see is shame and despair.

And it makes me irrationally angry that I do.

Scowling, I grab his shoulder and jerk him upwards trying to get him to look at me, but he refuses to meet my eyes.

"Look at me!" I command in a hoarse voice, and I shake him. When his eyes finally lock onto mine, they are devoid of emotion. Disgusted with both myself and the Avatar, I grab the green bottle by the side of the bed, knowing that the stuff is repugnant and that it weakens him, purposely wanting to punish him for... for his tacit rejection of me.

To my surprise, he literally snatches the bottle out of my hand and downs the contents almost immediately in one long, fluid gulp. His response is so bizarre that I forget my pride and my anger for a moment. When he hands me the empty bottle, I take it from him absently.

Later, when I reach for him again, his eyes are glassy and vacant.

It takes a minute for me to realize that it is a direct result of the drug he's been given. With a frown, I wrap my arms around him tightly, deciding that from now on, he'll only get the drug just before I return him to Zhao.

* * *

a/n: this fic is also archived on fichaven dot org and aff 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: This chapter contains a graphic yaoi lime and hints at substance abuse. Again, you've been warned...

* * *

It has been two weeks since I've been used as a plaything for both Admiral Zhao and Prince Zuko. At least, I think it has been two weeks… the drug that represses my bending abilities also clouds my mind somewhat, but I do not mind that part at all. In fact, I very much look forward to the blissful euphoria that the drug temporarily provides, because for a short period of time, I am able to escape _them_ and the hell that they are putting me through. 

Unfortunately, the effect soon wears of, and I am once again plunged into a reality that is far worse than any nightmare I have ever had.

To my dismay, they know that I have come to desire the drug… and they will now only give it to me after they have made use of me.

Without the drug, I have no way of shutting out reality, even though I try… and with every day that passes, I'm breaking more and more… losing hope… losing my sense of… self. And so, when I am with them, the only way for me to save my sanity is to remind myself over and over and over again who I really am.

_'My name is Aang. I am the last of the air benders and the Avatar. I love a beautiful water bender named Katara, and she loves me. My name is Aang… I am the last of the air benders and the Avatar…' _

"That's it boy… open your mouth a little wider – and watch the teeth."

Zhao has me today.

I am just a plaything to the Admiral – something to be taken out and used at his whim. I'm not even referred to as 'avatar' anymore by the bastard. Just… 'boy', since Zhao is constantly seeking to remind me of my new status.

As if I needed any reminder at all to know how much I've failed… how in their eyes, I've become less than… nothing.

He grips my head tightly as he thrusts himself in and out of my mouth. My lips are numb and sore and my mouth is dry. I want gag, want to scream or cry out. I've even entertained thoughts of biting down on the bastard.

But I do not. I can't.

I have no other recourse than to submit. And I don't submit because they have stripped me of my powers. I don't even submit because of the threat of torture. No, there is nothing that they could do to me personally that I fear. Torture me, kill me – in fact, I would welcome death at this point, rather than live in this hell that they've created for me.

Death is nothing to the Avatar.

Pain means very little as well.

I submit… I submit to this… depravity… because of what they could do… _to her…_ if I don't comply.

"Aahhh… you're getting so good at this boy… so, so good."

I cannot stop the slight wince the sound of his voice invokes from me. Fearfully, I glance upwards, catching his eyes and praying that he did not see the movement. Fortunately, his eyes are half closed and he is focusing only on his impending release and for just a moment, I allow my own eyes to close in an attempt to block out the image of the half naked fire bender in front of me. At the same time, I increase my own efforts to bring him to that point, knowing that the sooner he releases, the sooner I'll be… rewarded.

It doesn't take much – just a few whimpers of my own, a slight firming of my lips and a gentle flick of the tongue before I am nearly choking with his seed.

He hisses, strokes the side of my face almost affectionately and removes himself from my mouth. The gentle touch makes me shiver despite myself, and right now I hate him… but not as much as I hate myself for the reaction.

Unfortunately for me, he does see the shiver and he smirks as with one hand, he tugs me somewhat roughly to my feet.

"So responsive…. I wonder why?"

His eyes study mine as he considers his own question.

I know the answer, but I'd die before I'd speak it aloud to the bastard. As if he needed to know what has recently proven to be one of my greatest weaknesses…

I crave affection.

It took…_ her_ for me to understand exactly why.

Sometimes, I think I can remember my mother. The memory is vague and foggy… and almost out of my grasp… but I have a distinct impression of a young woman holding me, caring for me… loving me. I remember feeling safe in her embrace… even happy. I remember hugs and gentle kisses on my cheeks… and then I distinctly remember the loss of such things when I became a ward of the air temple.

For nearly eight years, I trained… harder and longer than any of the other acolytes… and with little acknowledgement from my mentors. Occasionally, I was given a kind word or a warm embrace from Gyasto, but such times were few and far between – not because he didn't care for me as his ward, but because such gestures were looked down upon by the council.

They thought it unwise for me to be dependant on any one person, because… well, because I was the avatar. As such, I was supposed to be strong – independent.

But I was just a child… a child who needed to be acknowledged, appreciated and loved.

As a result, physical affection is like a drug to me. I need it, just like I need the air that I breathe… the same air that now refuses to serve me, because of the other drug that I now need.

_Affection_. It is the main reason, I think, why I fell so hard and so fast for Katara… and why I was willing to eschew my childhood vows to be with her, to love her.

Because the warmth of her arms far surpassed anything else the world could offer me.

I remind myself constantly that I love her, that I need to be strong… that I need to hold on to hope because that is what she would want. I remind myself what it felt like to feel her soft skin underneath me and how tightly she clenched me within her as we consummated our love.

_Katara… _

Thinking of her is more painful than anything. I'm constantly wondering if she is safe, and if I really bought her any protection at all by sacrificing myself.

It's just that… we were being hunted… constantly.

You see, Avatar Roku lied to me. He said that I would have until the arrival of Sozun's comet to defeat fire lord Ozai.

But Ozai decided that he wasn't going to play by Roku's rules.

I had barely managed to master water bending and was just learning how to earth bend when word reached us of the fall of Omashu. Bai Sing Se soon followed. And after that, there was no safe place to hide, nowhere to run.

Nowhere to _learn_.

Necessity had me learning fire bending on my own – for who would teach me? I was the most wanted fugitive in the newly formed fire empire. I had no other choice but to teach myself, and doing so nearly killed me… but I managed to learn it, finally… and only because of the support I had from my friends, Sokka and Katara.

_Especially_ Katara.

We were constantly on the move, never in one place for very long and often hungry… yet she would always have a smile for me, would always treat my burns when I injured myself during my training, would always cheer me up when I felt like a failure – which was more often than not. In fact, it was on one such night that we became lovers… the night that we learned of the fall of the northern water nation – which, up until then had been the last free stronghold against the fire empire.

I should have been there, should have fought… should have _died_, rather than let another nation fall under Ozai's control… my spirit was nearly broken. I did not know what to do… and for the very first time, I knew what despair felt like.

On that night, when she wrapped her arms around me, something snapped. The affection that I had felt for her… the love… the desire for her touch… turned into sheer _need_.

Her touch that night restored my hope and the very next day, I mastered fire bending.

I was finally ready… to face Ozai.

But luck has never been my friend.

While I was training and gleefully demonstrating my new skills to Sokka, Katara was taken captive by Zuko.

I panicked… she was everything to me; especially after what we shared.

It took little thought on my part to offer myself in exchange for her. I hadn't known that she had escaped Zuko's ship at that time – for that matter, I don't think that Zuko knew either – but it wouldn't of mattered even if I had known… because I know that they just would have continued to hunt her down, just to get to me.

I couldn't let that happen, not anymore.

Foolishly, I also thought that if I allowed myself to be captured, they'd bring me directly before Ozai… and since I had mastered my skills, taking him out would be no problem – even if it cost me my life in doing so, I was ready.

What I had not even begun to consider was that they would have a drug to render my hard earned skills completely useless…

"It's Zuko, isn't it? He's the one that has instilled this particular… _taste_ of yours, isn't he?"

Zhao's question is delivered with a scowl and no small amount of malice. The sheer tone of it draws me out of my introspection and I look at him, a bit confused. He's been studying me for several minutes, and I have long since shut him out. It takes me a few moments to remember exactly what he is complaining about.

Oh…

Is Zhao… _jealous? _

The thought is shocking, but it is the only conclusion that I can come to, given his odd reaction. Up until now, he hadn't shown much interest in me, personally, other than to use and discard… and as a pawn to use in the sick, competitive game he has going on with Zuko. However, if he should be affected by my responses enough to be jealous of my other so-called master… perhaps this is something that I could use to my advantage.

He raises a hand to softly brush my cheek again, and I close my eyes and lean into the touch, whimpering slightly. It is an intentional, calculated response and has the desired effect when Zhao pulls his hand away abruptly and turns from me, briefly making a fist with his left hand before he releases it along with a heavy breath of air.

A few tense moments pass before he speaks to me again.

"It doesn't matter, boy. I can show you… that there are better ways to experience pleasure."

Suddenly, I wish I hadn't reacted.

I'm swept up in Zhao's arms and carried over to his bed. I'm confused and now even scared… I've already taken care of him, what does he want from me now? Zhao has never taken me on his bed… it has always been up against the wall or me on my knees on the floor. Usually quickly, roughly and with no concern at all as to my well being… and in some ways, his rough treatment of me has been preferable to the way that Zuko takes me… with soft kisses, warm arms and affection.

At least with Zhao, I knew where I stood. But with Zuko…

It would be so very easy to forget everything… forget who I was, forget my obligations and those who love me and live the pretty little lie that the Prince offers me. It would be so easy to allow myself to feel for him. I can't deny that my body responds to him, nor can I deny that he knows exactly how to reach me – which has up to now, made him the more dangerous of the two.

Yet, each time he makes me come, each time I feel myself wanting to return the affection, I remind myself that I am his prisoner… that he does not love me, even though he may think he does in his darkly twisted mind. As the son of Ozai, I can't imagine that he would have a good example of love to draw from in order to truly understand the emotion.

But I do. And that is why Prince Zuko is dangerous to me…

I cannot for one minute forget that there is someone who I truly love waiting for me, outside of this hell. Someone who I love dearly in return, who would never treat me as property… who would never share me with another, as if I were less than human.

Yet at night, Zuko's arms can be so very warm… and that I should take comfort in them is _wrong_.

_'Oh Katara, you have no idea how very much I've failed everyone after all – especially you.' _

Zhao removes the oversized robe that I'm forced to wear and pushes me down on the bed, face up. This is… different with Zhao. He normally takes me from behind; impersonally, where I can forget who it is taking me… and that is the way I prefer it. What… what is he doing?

My arms are bound with some sort of silky material and then my legs spread and bound as well. I want to turn from him, want to cry… this is so degrading… but I've long since learned to deaden my eyes and hide my emotions and I do so now.

"I will show you that the Prince knows nothing…"

This is a game, all a game, and I am a pawn…

"I will show you what pleasures can be derived from… pain."

My eyes flicker and Zhao smiles above me, pleased with my unintentional response. He grabs my member and strokes it softly, causing it to stiffen as my body responds to his touch. I want to pull away, I don't want to respond to Zhao! But he continues to stroke me, ever so softly and despite myself, a small whimper escapes my lips.

Zhao is now shifting so that he is between my legs and…

Oh gods…

He takes me into his mouth and begins to service me, much like the way he taught me to do to him. This sensation is… it is too close, too close to what it felt like to be in Katara and… and I want to cry, but I can't… can't cry and… oh…

He hands roughly squeeze my behind as they lift my hips upwards towards him, and I'm taken deeper inside the bastard's mouth. It feels good… too good… I don't want it to feel good at all. I don't want to know that my body can betray me, even with Zhao… and…

One hand roughly slaps my backside and I gasp. He pulls his mouth away from me for a moment and I whimper… and then scream when he crawls up my body and takes one of my nipples between his teeth.

"Feels good, doesn't it, boy? Pain with pleasure… Zuko can't give you this… only I can…"

He drags his nails down my abdomen… I'm shivering, sweating, hating, wanting, dreading, needing…

When his lips encapsulate me again, one of his hands slaps the outside of my thigh. This time, there is fire in the touch. The raw, stinging pain of the burn coupled with the exquisite heat of his mouth has me coming, suddenly, shamelessly…

Zhao pulls away from me, a satisfied smirk on his face as he wipes the traces of my seed off of his mouth with the back of his hand and I hate myself…

_'Katara, my love… I am so very sorry…' _

I should have never been born as the Avatar. I am too weak… I can't even control my own body right now, let alone the elements.

Perhaps I am only suited to be a plaything…

But if that is so, then how come the only color I see when I shut my eyes at night is a vivid, ice blue?

"You have pleased me today, boy. I suppose you can have this…"

Zhao puts the green bottle to my lips and I eagerly drink from it, ignoring the consistency and the taste of the drug as it burns its way down my throat. I do this because I know in a few minutes, bliss will come… I will be in another place, with someone else… someone with ice blue eyes who loves me…

But until then…

_'My name is Aang. I am the last of the air benders and the Avatar. I love a beautiful water bender named Katara, and she loves me. My name is Aang… I am the last of the air benders and the Avatar. I love a beautiful water bender named Katara, and she loves me… _

_My name is Aang…

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_

a/n: in case this fic goes poof, it is also located at fichavenDOTorg


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